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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE HILL OF VISION 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO 
DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. 
TORONTO 



THE HILL OF 
VISION 



BY 



JAMES STEPHENS 

AUTHOR OF ''INSURRECTIONS" 



j|2eto gotfe 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1912 

All rightt rtstrvei 






a- 



Copyright. igia 
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 



Set up and electrotyped. Published February. 1912 



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£CI.A309332 



© 

i 









CONTENTS 







FAGE 


Everything that I Can Spy 


. . 


I 


A Prelude and a Song . 


. . 


3 


In the Poppy Field 


9 • * 


28 


The Fulness of Time . 


• • 


30 


Light-o'-Love 


. . 


31 


Nucleolus 


. . 


32 


The Brute 


. 


34 


Mount Derision 


• • 


36 


The Sootherer 


. . 


37 


The Spalpeen 


. 


■ 44 


Danny Murphy . . 


. 


46 


The Tree of the Bird . 


• ♦ 1 


47 


Peadar Og Goes Courting 


. 


49 


Nora Criona . 


. . 


54 


The Rune 


. . 


55 


Bessie Bobtail 


• . < 


56 


The Tinker's Brat 


. . 


57 


Nothing at All 


. . 


. 58 


Why Tomas Cam Was Grumpy . 


. 60 


Under the Bracken 


. 


62 


The Girl I Left Behind M< 




64 


Shame 


. 


65 



CONTENTS 



Said the Young-Young Man 1 


:o the 


Old 




Old Man 


67 


Said the Old-Old Man to the Young 




Young Man .... 


73 


Secrets .... 






75 


Crooked-Heart 






76 


Mac Dhoul .... 






77 


The Merry Policeman . 






80 


Treason 






81 


The Fairy Boy 






85 


What the Devil Said 






87 


The Tree of Life . 






89 


Ora Pro Nobis 






94 


Afterwards 






95 


The End of the Road . 






97 


Wind and Tree 






99 


Eve .... 






100 


The Breath of Life 






104 


In the Cool of the Evening 






108 


New Pinions . 






109 


Psychometrist 






III 


The Winged Tramp 






. 112 


Poles .... 






113 


Chopin's Funeral March 






114 


The Monkey's Cousin . 






. 116 


The Lonely God . 






• 117 


Hail and Farewell . 






130 



Everything that I can spy 
Through the circle of my eye, 
Everything that I can see 
Has been woven out of me; 
I have sown the stars, and threw 
Clouds of morning and of eve 
Up into the vacant blue; 
Everything that I perceive, 
Sun and sea and mountain high, 
All are moulded by my eye: 
Closing it, what shall I find? 
— Darkness, and a little wind. 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 



THE PRELUDE 

Song! glad indeed I am that we have met, 
Too long, my sister, you have stayed from 

me; 
Almost I fancied that you could forget 
Those binding promises, that you would be 
Under the slender interlacing boughs 
Waiting for me. 

I came and looked about on every side 
But where you hid away I could not see; 
And first I searched among the meadows 

wide, 
And up the hill, and under every tree, 
And down the stream to see if you were 

there 
Waiting for me. 

3 



4 THE HILL OF VISION 

But when I did not find you in the mead, 
Or by the stream, or under any tree, 
I thought you had forgotten we agreed, 
Not long ago, that you would surely be 
Under the slender interlacing boughs 
Waiting for me. 

You came to me I do not know from where: 
I stood and saw you not, I turn and see: 
Have you sprung to me from the sunny air? 
Or in the long grass did you curiously 
Watch while I wandered, laughing as you 

lay 
Waiting for me. 

And you have brought your pipe! let us be- 
gin. 
Against your skill I match my poetry: 
A kiss if I should fail, and if I win 
A kiss the same — tune not your melody 
Too high at first, I shall not keep you long 
Waiting for me. 

O little wind that through the forest ways 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 5 

At evening and at morning still does go, 
Or from the hilltop with a lordlier praise 
Shouts without ceasing to the meads below! 
From cave or lake or wood 
Come, little wind and share our solitude; 
Leave those sad vagaries that make us 

weep, 
Your long-blown pealing trumpet put away, 
And where a merry holiday we keep 
Here in the sunny fields come dance and 

leap 
And sing aloud with us the live-long day. 

For we have often seen you in the corn 
Nodding the poppy heads in dainty play, 
Or through the meadows on a summer morn 
Blowing the little thistle balls away : 
And one day, unobserved, we watched you 

where 
You stole a ribbon from a maiden slim 
And threw it to a boy who stood and 

prayed, 
Which, e'er he kissed, you snatched away 

from him 



6 THE HILL OF VISION 

And blew it back again unto the maid 
Who was his only hope and thought and 

care; 
And while he sighed and while she laughed 

you took 
The ribbon up and soused it in a brook, 
Beyond the reach of lover anywhere. 

And yet again we saw 

You playing with the milkmaids in the 

shaw, 
Where standing near a satyr trained his eye 
If haply there was anything to see 
And crept up to you with a mind to spy 
The cause of such exceeding jollity: 
Then, when the satyr looked too curiously 
You blew his own rough beard and shaggy 

hair, 
And blinded him who stared so greedily, 
Because it was not right that he should see 
The milkmaid's kirtle that you meddled 

there. 

So you can laugh and play; 

Come then and join our merry holiday: 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 7 

Join in our song and maybe you will win 
Because you are so free from thought or 

care, 
Nor ever question, does the sinner sin? 
Or, who has seen? or, why or when or 

where? 
No longer bide 

By wood or hill or green or river's side, 
But your quaint careless lute bring with you 

here 
And sing to us and we will sing to you, 
Until we find who has the finest ear, 
And who the sweetest voice and gayest 

cheer, 
And to him give the praise that is his due. 

O nymphs ! if ye will come from spring or 

lake, 
Or where the sedge is wavering in the 

stream, 
To dance with us and with us to partake 
A careless fellowship, or with us dream 
Stretched idly on the grass to watch the 

gleam 



8 THE HILL OF VISION 

Of sunlight through the leaves — we wel- 
come true 
And will applaud your shy romantic theme, 
Your delicate wild tales and music new; 
And fair respectful courtesy extend to you. 

Round the trees ye danced and flew 
While the boughs danced down to see, 
And the sun was dancing through 
Leafy spaces on the tree: 
The daisies danced, the meadow-sweet, 
All the swaying grassy blades 
Danced behind the dancing feet 
Of the merry dancing maids. 

But ye goat-footed fellows keep away, 
Nor through the bushes strain your wily 

eyes, 
For ye would love to spoil our holiday, 
And fright the nymphs away with sudden 

cries, 
And whispers lewd and vicious enterprise: 
But if ye promise truly to be good, 
Then come with your thin reeds and im- 
provise 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 9 

Your antic dances practiced in the wood, 
And all the games you play in sunlit soli- 
tude. 

Left and right and swing around, 
Soar and dip and fall for glee, 
Happy sky and bird and ground, 
Happy wind and happy tree: 
Happy minions, dancing mad, 
Joy is guide enough for you, 
Cure the world of good and bad, 
And teach us innocence anew. 

In sunlit solitude wherein ye keep 
A merriment we never understood, 
Whose only privilege is when we weep — 
Away the word ! but come ye happy brood 
Of nymphs and dancing satyrs who have 

wooed 
So often and so often, come and lie 
Beside us on the grass, and be as good 
As your wild natures let, while singing high 
We send our joyful choruses up to the sky. 

Good and bad and right and wrong, 
Wave the silly words away: 



io THE HILL OF VISION 

This is wisdom to be strong, 
This is virtue to be gay: 
Let us sing and dance until 
We shall know the final art, 
How to banish good and ill 
With the laughter of the heart. 

Now sister, blow your pipe with curved 

lips, 
And all ye others come and sit around 
And hearken to my measure as it trips 
Now high, now low, with a melodious 

sound : 
My best I sing, and if it seem to you 
That ye have heard my measures sung 

before 
In old poetic days, give me my due, 
For those who sang so well were very few 
Tho' dead, and none alive can soar 
Up to the simple rapture of my lays : 
But be ye silent till my time is o'er, 
Then if ye like my songs give me my praise. 



THE SONG 

I have a black, black mind I 

What shall I do? 

If I could fly and leave it all behind, 

Scaling the blue, 

Over the trees and up and out of sight, 

And wrong and right 

Naming them both the nonsense that they 

are! 
I'd leave them far, 
Drop them behind with these and these and 

these, 
The tyrannies 

That promised to be blessings and are woes, 
The chattering crows • 
That I had fancied to be singing birds, 
The angry words 
That drowse and buzz and drone and never 

stay. 
Oh ! far away ! 

ii 



12 THE HILL OF VISION 

Over the pine trees and the mountain top, 
Never to stop; 

Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly 
Into the sky. 

If I had wings just like a bird 
I would not say a single word, 
I'd spread my wings and fly away 
Beyond the reach of yesterday. 

If I could swim just like a fish 
I'd give my little tail a swish, 
I'd swim ten days and nights and then 
I never would be found again. 

Or if I were a comet bright 
I'd drop in secret every night 
Ten million miles, and no one would 
Know where I kept my solitude. 

But I am not a bird or fish 
Or comet, so I need not wish, 
And need not try to get away 
Beyond the reach of yesterday. 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 13 

Damn Yesterday! and this and that, 
And these and those, and all the flat 
Dull catalogue of weighty things 
That somehow fastened to my wings. 

Over the pine trees and the mountain top 1 
I will not stop, 

I lift my wings and fly and fly and fly 
Into the sky. 

No more of woeful Misery I sing! 
Let her go moping down the paved way; 
While to the sunny fields, and everything 
That laughs, and to the little birds that 

sing, 
I pass along and tune my happy lay : 
O sunny sky ! 

meadows that the happy clouds are drift- 
ing by 1 

1 walk and play beside the little stream 
As by a friend: I dance in solitude 
Among the trees, or lie and gaze and 

dream 



H THE HILL OF VISION 

Along the grass, or hearken to the theme 
A lark discourses to her tender brood: 
O sunny sky! 

O meadows that the happy clouds are 
drifting by! 

There is a thrush lives snugly in a wall, 
She lets me come and peep into her nest, 
She lets me see and touch the speckled ball 
Under her wing, and does not fear at all, 
Although her shy companion is distressed: 
O sunny sky ! 

O meadows that the happy clouds are drift- 
ing by! 

Sing, sing again ye little birds of joy! 
Call out from tree to tree and tell your tale 
Of happiness that knoweth no alloy; 
Altho' your mates seem timorous and coy 
If ye sing high enough how can ye fail? 
O sunny sky! 

O meadows that the happy clouds are drift- 
ing by ! 

On every side, as far as I can see, 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 15 

The round horizon — like a bosom's swell, 
Seems brooding in a sweet maternity 
Where no thing may be hurt, not even me, 
But she will stoop and kiss and make us 

well: 
O sunny sky! 

meadows that the happy clouds are drift- 
ing by ! 

1 am the brother of each bird and tree 
And everything that grows — your children 

glad; 
Their hearts are in my heart, their ecstasy! 
O Mother of all mothers, comfort me, 
Give me your breast for I am very sad : 
O sunny sky! 

meadows that the happy clouds are drift- 
ing by! 

1 wandered far away in early morn, 
When summer did the happy trees adorn; 
Leaving behind all woe and discontent, 
All sorrow and distress and angry pain, 
And did not say to any where I went, 

Or when, or if I would return again 
From leafy solitude. 



16 THE HILL OF VISION 

I wandered far away and far away, 
And was as happy as a person may, 
Until I heard the birds all singing plain 
Upon their several trees, a joyous band, 
Who had no care save only to attain 
The food and shelter that lay every hand 
In leafy solitude. 

I wandered far away and did not turn: 
At their glad songs my heart began to 

burn, 
And joy that I had never known before, 
And tears that had no meaning I could say, 
Came from the hymns the little birds did 

pour 
To me as I went softly on my way 
In leafy solitude. 

I wandered far away and I was glad: 
I knew the rapture that the forest had : 
And every bird was good to me and said 
A kindly word before I passed him by, 
The cheery squirrel sat and ate his bread 
And did not fear me when I ventured nigh 
His leafy solitude. 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 17 

I wandered far away — O, all alas! 

How quickly does the little freedom pass! 

Can I return again to domicile? 

Or leave the birds each on his several tree? 

Or wonder did I weep and did I smile? 

Or recollect the songs they sang to me 

In leafy solitude ? 

O birds, my brothers, sing to me once 

more! 
E'er I return again to whence I came, 
Give me your happiness, your joy, your 

lore, 
Your woodland innocence I claim 
Because ye truly are my brothers dear: 
Sing to me once again before I go from 

here. 

In woodland paths again we may not meet; 
Under the slender interlacing boughs, 
Where all day long the sunbeams flash 

and fleet 
On leaf and grass and wing, 
And all day long ye sing 
And hold carouse : 



18 THE HILL OF VISION 

Because ye truly are my brothers dear 
Sing to me once again before I go from 
here. 

I from your happy company must go away 

To whence I came; 

But ye through all the quiet summer day 

Will sing the same, 

And fly and hold carouse 

Under the slender interlacing boughs 

When I am gone, who am your brother 

dear: 
Sing to me once again before I go from 

here. 

All things must cease at last; 
Night cometh after day 
And day is past: 
All things must end 
And friend from loving friend 
At the long last must rise and go away; 
And from the slender interlacing boughs 
The leaves that flutter now will fail and 
fall; 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 19 

The time is come I may no more carouse, 
Farewell to ye, farewell unto ye all 
Ye birds who truly are my brothers dear: 
Sing to me once again before I go from 
here. 

O clouds that sail afar, almost unseen! 

unattainable ! to you alone 

1 lift my wings, 
To you I lean, 

I yearn to you beyond all other things; 
Desperate I am for you, for you I moan; 
I struggle up to you and always fail, 
I sink and fall, I fall for ever down, 
Deep down where you are not, without 

avail 
Or help or hope : a clod, a grinning clown 
Whose wry mouth laughs in fury at his 

thought ; 
A discontent without a word to say; 
A hope that cannot fasten upon aught; 
A nothing that is anything it may; 
A moodiness, a hatred and a love 



ao THE HILL OF VISION 

Mixed, mixed of good and bad that can 

not show; 
But you are calm at morning as a dove 
Is calm upon her nest, and in the glow 
Of midday you are bathed round with joy, 
And as a woman looking on the child 
Within her arms asleep has no annoy 
So, with contented brows and bosom mild, 
You rest upon the evening and its gold, 
Its tender rose and pearl and green and 

gray: 
O peacefulness that never has been told ! 
O far away ! 

Over the pine trees and the mountain top, 
Never to stop 

Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly 
Into the sky. 

Weary indeed I know the whole world is; 
Then do not sing to me a song of woe, 
But tune your pipe to every merry bliss 
Ye can remember, and I will not miss 
To join in every chorus that I know: 
Give me the very rapture of your song 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 21 

Else I may go away with thoughts that do 
ye wrong 

The joyful song that welcomes in the 

spring, 
The tender mating song so bravely shy, 
The song that builds the nest, the merry 

ring 
When the long wait is ended and ye bring 
The young birds out and teach them how 

to fly: 
Sing to me of the beechnuts on the ground, 
And of the first wild flight at early dawn, 
And of the store of berries some one found 
And hid away until ye gathered round 
And ate them while he shrieked upon the 

lawn: 
Sing of the swinging nest upon the tree, 
And of your mates who call and hide away, 
And of the sun that shines exceedingly, 
And of the leaves that dance, and all the 

glee 
And rapture that begins at break of day. 

O birds, O birds, sing once again to me ! 



22 THE HILL OF VISION 

Sing me the joy ye have not reached to yet; 
E'er I go hence give me your ecstasy, 
E'er I go hence, e'er far away I flee 
Give me the joy which I may not forget: 
The very inner rapture of your song: 
Else I may go away with thoughts that do 
ye wrong. 

O follow, follow, follow! 

Blackbird, thrush and swallow; 

The air is soft, the sun is shining through 

The dancing boughs; 

A little while me company along 

And I will go with you: 

Arouse, arouse! 

Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song. 

Blackbird, thrush and swallow! 

Indeed the visits that I pay are very few, 

Then come to me as I have come to you : 

O follow, follow, follow! 

Leave for a little time your nested boughs 

And me accompany along, 

Join me while I am happy; rouse, O rouse! 

Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song. 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 23 

Sky, sky, 

On high, 

O gentle majesty! 

Come all ye happy birds and follow, follow 

Under the slender interlacing boughs 

Blackbird, thrush and swallow! 

No longer in the sunlight sit and drowse 

But me accompany along; 

No longer be ye mute; arouse, arouse! 

Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song. 

Lift, lift, ye happy birds, 

Lift song and wing, 

And sing and fly, 

And fly again and sing 

Up to the very blueness of the sky 

Your happy words. 

O follow, follow, follow, 

Where I go racing through the shady ways, 

Blackbird, thrush and swallow, 

Shouting aloud our ecstasy of praise: 

Under the slender interlacing boughs 

Me company along, 

The sun is coming with us : rouse, O rouse ! 

Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song, 



24 THE HILL OF VISION 

Reach up my wings ! 

Now broaden into space and carry me 

Beyond where any lark that sings 

Can get: 

Into the utmost sharp tenuity, 

The breathing-point, the start, the scarcely- 
stirred 

High slenderness where never any bird 

Has winged to yet ! 

The moon peace and the star peace and 
the peace 

Of chilly sunlight: to the void of space, 

The emptiness, the giant curve, the great 

Wide-stretching arms wherein the gods em- 
brace 

And stars are born and suns: where ger- 
minate 

All fruitful seed, where life and death are 
one, 

Where all things that are not their times 
await; 

Where all things that have been again are 
gone: 

Deep Womb of Promise! back to thee 
again 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 25 

And forth, revivified, all living things 

Do come and go, 

Forever wax and wane into and from thy 

garden; 
There the flower springs, 
Therein does grow 

The bud of hope, the miracle to come 
For whose dear advent we are striving 

dumb 
And joyless: Garden of Delight 
That God has sowed! 
In thee the flower of flowers, 
The apple of our tree, 
The banner of our towers, 
The recompense for every misery, 
The angel-man, the purity, the light 
Whom we are working to has his abode : 
Until out back and forth, our life and 

death 
And life again, our going and return 
Prepare the way: until our latest breath, 
Deep-drawn and agonized, for him shall 

burn 
A path: for him prepare 



26 THE HILL OF VISION 

Laughter and love and singing everywhere ; 

A morning and a sunrise and a day ! 

O, far away ! 

Over the pine trees and the mountain top 

Never to stop 

Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly 

Into the sky. 

Song! I am tired to death! here let me lie 
Where we have paced the moving trees 

along, 
Till I recover from my ecstasy: 
Farewell my Song. 

Once more unto your pipe I lend my 

rhyme 
Who in the woods did pace with you along; 
We have been happy for a little time: 
Farewell my Song. 

Soon, soon return or else my world is 

naught; 
Come back and we will pace the woods 

along, 



A PRELUDE AND A SONG 27 

And tell unto each other all our thought: 
Farewell my Song. 

And when again you do come back to me 
Under the sounding trees we'll pace along, 
While to your pipe I raise my poetry: 
Farewell my Song. 



IN THE POPPY FIELD 

Mad Patsy said, he said to me, 
That every morning he could see 
An angel walking on the sky ; 
Across the sunny skies of morn 
He threw great handfuls far and nigh 
Of poppy seed among the corn; 
And then, he said, the angels run 
To see the poppies in the sun. 

A poppy is a devil weed, 
I said to him — he disagreed: 
He said the devil had no hand 
In spreading flowers tall and fair 
Through corn and rye and meadow land, 
By gurth and barrow everywhere: 
The devil has not any flower, 
But only money in his power. 

And then he stretched out in the sun 
And rolled upon his back for fun: 



IN THE POPPY FIELD 29 

He kicked his legs and roared for joy 
Because the sun was shining down, 
He said he was a little boy 
And would not work for any clown : 
He ran and laughed behind a bee, 
And danced for very ecstasy. 



THE FULNESS OF TIME 

On a rusty iron throne 

Past the furthest star of space 

I saw Satan sit alone, 

Old and haggard was his face; 

For his work was done and he 

Rested in eternity. 

And to him from out the sun 
Came his father and his friend 
Saying, now the work is done 
Enmity is at an end: 
And he guided Satan to 
Paradises that he knew. 

Gabriel without a frown, 
Uriel without a spear, 
Raphael came singing down 
Welcoming their ancient peer, 
And they seated him beside 
One who had been crucified. 
30 



LIGHT-O'-LOVE 

But now, said she, I must away, 
And if I tend another fire 
In some man's house this you will say- 
It is not that her love doth tire : 
This is the price she has to pay, 
For bread she gets no other way, 
Still fainting for her heart's desire. 

And so she went out from the door 
While I sat quiet in my chair: 
She ran back once, again — no more; 
I heard a footstep on the stair, 
A lifted latch; one moment fleet 
I heard the noises of the street, 
Then silence booming everywhere. 



31 



NUCLEOLUS 

I looked from Mount Derision at 
Two ivory thrones that were in space, 
Whereon a man and woman sat, 
The very parallels of grace, 
Not lovelier had ever been 
By mortal seen. 

Then one unto the other said, 

Tell me the secret hidden well 

Which you have never uttered, 

And I to you again will tell 

My guarded thought, and we will know 

Each other so. 

Then he — When those who pray beside 

My holy altars do not bear 

A gift to me I turn aside 

And do not listen to the prayer, 

But whoso brings a gift will see 

The proof of me. 

32 



NUCLEOLUS 33 

And she — When on a festal day 

The youths kneel down before my shrine 

I think, if he or he might lay 

His ruddy cheek to mine 

And comfort my sick soul I'd lay 

My crown away. 



THE BRUTE 

Still she said No and No, 

And begged me loose her hand : 

I let it go, 

But gripped her dress instead: 

I could not stand 

For swimming of my head. 

And then a sudden weakness came upon me 

And my trembling knees 

Went shaking to the ground. 

Ah misery ! 

She would not listen, 

Stared at me and frowned. 

I begged, implored . . . 
All the love I'd stored 
Came gasping in a net 
Of tangled pleading, 
Sigh and pant and fret, 
And words disjointed, 
Bitten through and bleeding. 
34 



THE BRUTE 35 

But she went No and No and No again, 

And No for ever, 

Spite of all endeavour; 

Until like wintry rain 

That pattering word whirled on my mad- 
dened head 

And froze me furious while she thought 
me dead. 

But then with icy lips I cursed her there, 

Eyes, nose and teeth and hair; 

I damned her body, bones and blood — and 

then 
She scuttled homewards like a frightened 

hen. 



MOUNT DERISION 

Deep within the spacious round 
I saw a man and woman bound, 
Middle to middle and knee to knee, 
With a rusty iron chain, 
Which when one or the other would flee 
Drew them close together again: 
This was on the Hill of Vision 
Which the gods call Mount Derision. 

There lay upon the ground a key 
Which the couple did not see 
Tho' with fury they were bowed; 
And they struggled in the sun, 
And each to the other shouted loud 
An urgent business to be done 
If the fruitful strife might cease 
And they work together in peace. 

Thought and Feeling, Brain and Heart, 
These, which cannot work apart, 
36 



MOUNT DERISION 37 

Were loving sister and kindly brother 
Long ago till desire and strife 
Chained the twain unto each other 
As hated husband and hateful wife, 
Who must suffer till they see 
Love is crowned by liberty. 



THE SOOTHERER 

Little Joy, why do you run so fast ? 
Waving behind you as you go away 
Your tiny hand. You smiled at me and 

cast 
A silver apple, asking me to play: 
But when I ran to pick the apple up 
You ran the other way. 

Bad one ! I will refuse to eat my food, 

1 will not talk or laugh or say a prayer 
Unless you cease from running; I will brood 
In secret if you leave me: I declare 

I'll drink and fight and go to the bad 
And curse and swear! 

Little One ! White One ! Shy Little Gay 

Sprite! 
Do not turn your head across you shoulder 
To laugh and mock at me; it is not right 
To laugh at me for I am older: 
38 



THE SOOTHERER 39 

Throw me the silver apple once again 
You little scolder. 

I love you very dear, indeed I do; 

I never saw a girl like you before 

In any place. You are more sweetly new 

Than a May moon : you are my store, 

My secret and my treasure and the pulse 

Of my heart's core. 

Throw me the silver apple — I will run 
And pick it up and give it you again : 
Dear Heart ! Sweet Laughter ! — throw it 

then for fun 
And not for me — if you will but remain, 
. . . Nay do not run; I'll stand thus 

far away 
And not complain. 

Come just a little nearer, half a pace, 
One little, little step: my eyes are bad, 
They cannot altogether see your face 
At this great distance — if I had 
Good sight I would not mind how far I 

stood, 
I would be glad. 



40 THE HILL OF VISION 

Never before — or only one or two : 
I did not really like them half so well, 
Not really half so well as I like you, 
Throw me the silver apple and I'll tell 
Their names, and what I used to say to 

them, 
— The first was Nell. 

Throw me the apple and I'll tell you more; 
— She had a pretty face, but she was fat: 
We clung together when the rain would 

pour 
Under a tree or hedge, and often sat 
Through long, still, sunny hours — Tell 

what she said? 
I'll not do that. 

I really couldn't, no, it would be wrong 
And most unfair, I will not say a word 
About the girl — (your voice is like the song 
I heard this morning from a little bird) 
. . . I'll whisper then if you come close 

to me, 
— You've hardly stirred. 



THE SOOTHERER 41 

She said she loved me better than her life. 
— You need not laugh, she said so anyway, 

And meant it too, and longed to be my 

wife: 
She kissed me many times and wept to stay 
Within my arms and did not ever want 
To go away. 

But she was fat, I will admit that's true: 
And so I hid when she came seeking me. 
If she had been as beautiful as you . . . 
(You are as slender as a growing tree, 
And when you move the blood goes leaping 

through 
The heart of me). 

The other girl? Yes, she is very fair: 
Her feet are lighter than the clouds on 

high, 
And there is morn and noonday in her 

hair, 
And mellow, sunny evenings in her eye, 
And all day long she sings just like a lark 
Up in the sky. 



42 THE HILL OF VISION 

I say she did — she loved me very well, 
And I loved her until, Ah, woe is me ! 
Until today, when passing through the dell 
I met yourself, and now I cannot see 
Her face at all, or any face but yours 
In memory. 

I ought to be ashamed? well ament I? 
But that's no comfort when I'm in a trap: 
I tell you I shall sit down here and die 
Unless you stay — you do not care a rap — 
Ah, Little Sweetheart, do not run away, 
. . . Have pity on a chap. 

You'll go — then listen, you are just a pig, 
A little wrinkled pig out of a sty; 
Your legs are crooked and your nose is big, 
You've got no calves, you have a silly eye, 
I don't know why I stopped to talk to you, 
I hope you'll die. 

Now cry, go on, mew like a little cat, 
And rub your eyes and stamp and tear your 

wig; 
I see your ankles ! listen, they are fat 



THE SOOTHERER 43 

And so's your head, you're angled like a 

twig, 
Your back's all baggy and your clothes 

don't fit 
And your feet are big! 

She's gone, begor, she legged it like a hare ! 
You'd think I had the itch, or else a face 
Like a blue monkey — keeps me standing 

there, 
Not good enough to touch her . . ! 

Back I'll race 
And make it up with Breed, that's what 

I'll do, 

There is a flower that bloometh, 
Tra la la la laddy la . 



THE SPALPEEN 

Looking on the rounded sky 
From the Hill of Vision, I 
Saw him striding here and there 
Sowing seeds upon the air, 
And he told the name of these, 
Days and Years and Centuries. 

Then a seed to me he threw 
Saying, 'tis a gift for you, 
The best of all the seeds that be 
This is the seed of mystery, 
And its name is Death but no 
Other tree can blossom so. 

It will top the clouds and run 
Branches up into the sun: 
Fruit and leaf and branch and stem 
Will grow far too high for them, 
The Immortals, who will cry 
We are tired and cannot die. 
44 



THE SPALPEEN 45 

"Fear of the Gods" will be its name, 
It will cover up their fame ; 
And beneath its shade will go 
Mighty mortals to and fro 
Who will die and live and be 
Eager through eternity. 



DANNY MURPHY 

He was as old as old could be, 
His little eye could scarcely see 
His mouth was sunken in between, 
His nose and chin, and he was lean 
And twisted up and withered quite, 
So that he could not walk aright. 

His pipe was always going out, 
And then he'd have to search about 
In all his pockets, and he'd mow 
— O, deary me ! and, musha now ! 
And then he'd light his pipe, and then 
He'd let it go clean out again. 

He could not dance or jump or run, 
Or ever have a bit of fun 
Like me and Susan, when we shout 
And jump and throw ourselves about: 
But when he laughed then you could see 
He was as young as young could be. 
46 



THE TREE OF THE BIRD 

I sat beneath a tree in a wide park, 
There was a lark, a bard of ecstasy, 
Who sang among the leaves of his beWed: 
— "Thou art most fair, O, my beloved,"' 

said he, 
"None can with thee compare, 
Thy flight is with the stars and with tfce 

wind, 
And thou art kind, 
O, my most well-beloved" 
— Such was his minstrelsy. 

The mellow evening sun trod to a hill 

Far off and blue, 

But I was too enraptured with the skill 

Of that young songster, and the still 

Slow rustling of the boughs 

To heed how far the sun had stepped 

Unto his western house, 

Whereto 

47 



48 THE HILL OF VISION 

At evening he must turn again his bright- 
ness to renew. 

There came to me a languor sad, 
The sacred peace which Adam had 
When in the morning after he 
Had been expelled to misery 
He wakened with his bride, 
And cried his thanks and praise to God 
For trees and dew and birds that flew, 
For sun and breeze and cloudy sails 
Which he aforetime knew and loved in 
Eden's vales. 

He did a moment furthermore 

Outpour his many patterned song, 

Down to the ground and up to the sky, 

About, around, an ecstasy, 

A sheer and sweet swift rush along; 

It failed and ceased, and then he threw 

His pinions wide, 

Away he flew, 

Because he could no longer bide 

Away from her he glorified. 



THE TREE OF THE BIRD 49 

A little wind from out of space 

Breathed softly on my face, 

The gray and peaceful evening stole 

Around the tree, till branch and bole 

Were lost, and there remained to me 

Nothing at all to hear or see 

But this — 

A bliss, a happiness, 

A song that came like a caress, 

A memory, no more — which you, 

My friend, are very welcome to. 



PEADAR OG GOES 
COURTING 

Now I am nicely dressed I'll go 
Down to where the roses blow, 
I'll pluck a fair and fragrant one 
And make my mother pin it on: 
Now she's laughing, so am I — 
O, the blueness of the sky ! 

Down the street, turn to the right, 
Round the corner out of sight, 
Pass the church and out of town- 
Dust does show on boots of brown, 
I'd better brush them while I can; 
Step out, Peadar, be a man! 

Here's a field and there's a stile, 
Shall I jump it? wait a while, 
Scale it gently, stretch my foot 
Across the mud in that big rut 
so 



PEADAR OG GOES COURTING 51 

And I'm still clean — faith, I'm not! 
Get some grass and rub the spot. 



Dodge those nettles, here the stream 
Bubbles onward with a gleam 
Steely white, and black, and gray, 
Bending rushes on its way — 
What's that moving? It's a rat 
Washing his whiskers, isn't he fat? 

Here the cow with the crumpledy horn 
Whisks her tail and looks forlorn, 
She wants a milkmaid bad I guess 
How her udders swell and press 
Against her legs — and here's some sheep, 
And there's the shepherd fast asleep. 

This is a sad and lonely field, 
Thistles are all that it can yield, 
I'll cross it quick, nor look behind, 
There's nothing in it but the wind: 
And if those bandy-legged trees 
Could only talk they'd curse or sneeze. 



52 THE HILL OF VISION 

A sour, unhappy, sloppy place — 
That boot's loose ! I'll tie the lace 
So, and jump this little ditch, 

. Her father's really very rich: 
He'll be angry — there's a crow, 
Solemn blackhead ! off you go. 

There a big gray, ancient ass 

Is snoozing quiet in the grass, 

He hears me coming, starts to rise, 

And wags his big ears at the flies. 

. . . JVhafll I say when — there's a 

frog, 
Go it, long-legs, jig, jig-jog. 

He'll be angry, say — "Pooh, pooh, 
Boy, you know not what you do." 
Shakespeare rot and good advice, 
Fat old duffer — those field mice 
Have a good time playing round 
Through the corn and underground. 

But her mother is friends with mine, 
She always asks us out to dine, 



PEADAR OG GOES COURTING 53 

And dear Nora, curly head, 

Loves me; so at least she said. 

. . . Damn that ass's hee-hee-haw — 

Was that a rabbit's tail I saw? 

This is the house, Lord, I'm afraid! 

A man does suffer for a maid. 

. . . How will I start? — the graining's 

new 
On the door — O, pluck up, do. 
Don't stand shivering there like that 
. . . The knocker's funny — rat-tat-tat. 



NORA CRIONA 

I have looked him round and looked him 

through, 
Know everything that he will do 
In such a case, and such a case, 
And when a frown comes on his face 
I dream of it, and when a smile 
I trace its sources in a while. 

He cannot do a thing but I 
Peep and find the reason why, 
Because I love him, and I seek, 
Every evening in the week, 
To peep behind his frowning eye 
With little query, little pry, 
And make him if a woman can 
Happier than any man. 

Yesterday he gripped her tight 
And cut her throat — and serve her right I 
54 



THE RUNE 

The sun and the star, 
The moon and the sea, 
As they wandered afar 
Sent a message to me. 

For our friend, lovingly 
We have fashioned a moral, 
When there's room to agree 
There is no room to quarrel. 

And, therefore, we now 
Send this thought to the friend 
Whom we love, showing how 
Every quarrel will end. 

To be far brings you near, 
But too near is too far; 
Can you love without fear 
When the door's on the jar? 
55 



BESSIE BOBTAIL 

As down the street she wambled slow, 

She had not got a place to go: 

She had not got a place to fall 

And rest herself — no place at all. 

She stumped along and wagged her pate 

And said a thing was desperate. 

Her face was screwed and wrinkled tight 
Just like a nut — and, left and right, 
On either side she wagged her head 
And said a thing, and what she said 
Was desperate as any word 
That ever yet a person heard. 

I walked behind her for a while 

And watched the people nudge and smile: 

But ever as she went she said, 

As left and right she swung her head, 

— "O, God He knows," and "God He 

knows" 
And, surely God Almighty knows. 
56 



THE TINKER'S BRAT 

I saw a beggar woman bare 

Her bosom to the winter air; 

And into the tender nest 

Of her famished mother-breast 

She laid her child, 

And him beguiled, 

With crooning song into his rest. 

With crooning song and tender word, 

About a little singing bird, 

Who spread her wings about her brood, 

And tore her bosom up for food, 

And sang the while, 

Them to beguile, 

All in the forest's solitude. 

And hearing this I could not see 
That she was clad in misery; 
For in her heart there was a glow 
Warmed her bare feet in the snow: 
In her heart was hid a sun 
Would warm the world for every one. 
57 



NOTHING AT ALL 

There was a man was very old: 

He sat beside a little fire, 

And watched the flame begin to tire. 

He held his hands out to the heat, 
And in his voice was half a scold, 
Informed Creation he was cold. 

And very, very feeble, too: 

He could not lift up from his seat 

To reach the fuel at his feet. 

"Perhaps," said he, "God does not know 
That I am nearly frozen through; 
He might not like it if He knew. 

"For an old man cannot stretch, 
When his blood's too weak to flow, 
Frozen sitting in the snow." 
58 



NOTHING AT ALL 59 

******* 

Poor old chattering, grumbling wight ! 
God will hardly come to fetch 
Wood for such an ancient wretch. 

But He will send you rain more cold, 
To quench that little flickering light, 
Just like this, and freeze you quite : 
. . . Men must die when they are old. 



WHY TOMAS CAM WAS 
GRUMPY 

If I were rich what would I do? 

I'd leave the horse just ready to shoe, 

I'd leave the pail beside the cow, 

I'd leave the furrow beneath the plough, 

I'd leave the ducks tho' they should quack, 

"Our eggs will be stolen before you're 

back"; 
I'd buy a diamond brooch, a ring, 
A golden chain which I would fling 
Around her neck . . . Ah, what an 

itch, 
If I were rich! 

What would I do if I were wise? 
I would not debate about the skies, 
Nor would I try a book to write, 
Or find the wrong in the tangled right, 
I would not debate with learned men 
Of how, and what, and why, and when; 
60 



TOMAS CAM 61 

I'd train my tongue to a linnet's song, 

I'd learn the words that couldn't go 

wrong — 
And then I'd say . . . And win the 

prize, 
If I were wise! 

But I'm not that nor t'other, I bow 
My back to the work that's waiting now. 
I'll shoe the horse that's standing ready, 
I'll milk the cow if she'll be steady, 
I'll follow the plough that turns the loam, 
I'll watch the ducks don't lay from home. 
— And I'll curse, and curse, and curse again 
Till the devil joins in with his big amen, 
And none but he and I will wot 
When the heart within me starts to rot, 
To fester and churn its ugly brew — 
. . . Where's my spade? I've work 
to do. 



UNDER THE BRACKEN 

A body lay upon the hill 
And over it the bracken swung; 
The which had housed many an ill 
Of hand and heart and tongue: 
It was so foul the angels who 
Fit the dead for living flew 
From where the corpse was flung. 

Then all the ills that had been sted 
In the heart and in the head, 
Every sin and shame he knew 
When he gloried in the sun 
Rose from hell again and flew, 
Filled with indignation, 
And did what the angel crew 
Could not bring themselves to do. 

They cleaned him more white than snow, 
They purged him of everv stain, 
62 



UNDER THE BRACKEN 63 

Fouling their own bodies so 
They might not be clean again: 
But when the living from the dead 
Arose again the angels said, 
Behold, our work was not in vain. 



THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND 
ME 

She watched the blaze, 

And so I said the thing I'd come to say, 

Pondered for days. 

Her lips moved slow, 

And then a widened eye she flashed upon 

me 
Sudden as a blow. 

She turned again, 

Her hands clasping her knees and did not 

speak : 
She did not deign. 

And I, poor gnome! 
A chided cur crawls to a hole to hide : 
. . . I toddled home. 
64 



SHAME 

I was ashamed, I dared not lift my eyes, 
I could not bear to look upon the skies ; 
What I had done ! sure, everybody knew ! 
From everywhere hands pointed where I 

stood, 
And scornful eyes were piercing through 

and through 
The moody armor of my hardihood. 

I heard their voices too, each word an asp 
That buzz'd and stung me sudden as a 

flame: 
And all the world was jolting on my name, 
And now and then there came a wicked 

rasp 
Of laughter, jarring me to deeper shame. 

And then I looked, but there was no one 

nigh, 
No eyes that stabbed like swords or glinted 

sly, 

«5 



66 THE HILL OF VISION 

No laughter creaking on the silent air: 
And then I found that I was all alone 
Facing my soul, and next I was aware 
That this mad mockery was all my own. 



SAID THE YOUNG-YOUNG 
MAN TO THE OLD-OLD 

MAN 

I 

I wish I had not grown to man's estate, 
I wish I was a silly urchin still, 
With bounding pulses and a heart elate 
To meet whatever came of good or ill. 

Of good or ill! not knowing what was 

good, A 

But groping to a better than I knew, 
And guessing deeper than I understood, 
And hoping truths that never could be true. 

Of good or ill! when, so it often seems, 
There is no good at all but only ill. 
Alas, the sunny summer-time of dreams, 
The dragons I had nerved my hand to kill, 
The maidens I should rescue, and the queen 
Whose champion long ago I would have 
been. 

67 



68 THE HILL OF VISION 

II 

I wish I had a hand as big as God's 

To smash creation into smithereens, 

Till nothing but a heap of stones or clods 

Remained of its ironic might-have-beens. 

The weary ages that have drifted by, 
The ages that have still to shirk and slink, 
Have fashioned us the image of an eye, 
And brains that weary when they try to 
think. 

For all is as it was, and all will be 

Experimental still in ages hence: 

Poor eyes that ache because they cannot 

seel 
Poor minds that strive without a recom- 
pense ! 
And after all the climbing climb we still 
To find o'er every height a steeper hill. 



SAID THE YOUNG-YOUNG MAN 69 
III 

I wished I was a saint not long ago, 
But now I do not wish it any more : 
Who'd be the ebb if he might be the flow 
That bursts in thunder on the solid shore. 

I'd be a wave impetuous as life 

And not the skulking backwash that is 

death. 
I would not lose a pang of heated strife 
For all the comfort that the Preacher saith. 

Straight beds of that oblivion! sodden 

sleep, 
That dreams renunciations deeper still ! 
Renouncing only what they cannot keep 
For trembling fingers and for flaccid will. 

And yet the dreams of long ago had got 
A colour my awakening forgot. 



70 THE HILL OF VISION 

IV 

I love rich venison and mellow wine: 
To sprawl upon a meadow in the sun : 
To swing a cane, and kiss a girl, and dine, 
To break and mend and fashion things 
for fun. 

I love to look at women as they pass : 
I love to watch a valiant horse go by: 
To hear a lark sing from the seedy grass: 
To praise a friend and mock an enemy. 

The glory of the sunlight and the day, 
The loveliness when evening closes slow, 
The clouds that droop away and far away 
Just faintly tinged by day's last afterglow. 

And yet I fear lest misery and grief 
Like misers hide a joy beyond belief. 



SAID THE YOUNG-YOUNG MAN 71 

V 

Perhaps you hearken to a wiser muse! 
The undersong of life rolling along 
So deep, so scarcely audible, we lose 
The tremble of that densely weighted song : 

We who are toned to lighter melodies, 
The bee that murmurs in the scented grass, 
The sharper sweetness from the nested 

trees, 
The winds that laugh and weep before they 

pass. 

We well may miss that solemn monotone. 
But ye can miss the nightingale in June ! 
For music that is cousin to a groan, 
For agonies that writhe upon a tune! 

Drear happiness ! the linnet in the tree 
Astounds your rhythms like a mockery. 



72 THE HILL OF VISION 

VI 

I wish that I were dead: I wish indeed 
That I were dead and buried in the ground, 
Deep down below the deepest rooted weed 
And nothing left, not even one small mound 

To show where I was lying. If I lay 
Long-stretched and silent in that blank re- 
treat, 
I would not hear a sound of grave or gay, 
Or even those shy, softly-stepping feet 
That come and stand a while and go away. 

I would be so alone, so quite alone, 
And heedless as the dead can only be, 
Not minding what was hidden or was 

known, 
Or all the gropings of philosophy. 

If I were dead — but still I could not die 
While there were winds and clouds upon 
the sky. 



SAID THE OLD-OLD MAN 73 
VII 

Said the Old-Old Man to the Young-Young 
Man 



Listen well to what I say, 
These are the names of demons gray. 
Smiling-Lip whose teeth are strong. 
Friendly-Hand, whose claws are long. 
Passionate-Eye, whose glare is fire. 
Kiss-of-Joy, who lives in mire. 
These are the names of demon foes 
Who taught the Devil all he knows. 

The lips of desire smile to hide 
The teeth of fierce oppression inside. 
The hand that gives and gives alway 
Only waits a time to slay. 
The eyes that woo with a fiery stare 
^Are the eyes that roam anywhere. 
The kiss that is quick, and mad, and sweet 
Rolls the gutters along the street. 



74 THE HILL OF VISION 

Beware of lips when smiling bland, 
Beware the gifts in a friendly hand, 
Beware the passionate eyes that woo, 
The sweetest kiss is the kiss to rue: 
A laugh is a lie and the truth a blow, 
— But you won't heed me whether or no. 



SECRETS 

When I was young I used to think. 
That every eye peered through a chink, 
And every man was hid behind 
His own thick self where none could find. 

That every woman in the street, 
Looking fair and smiling sweet, 
Was maybe hiding thoughts that were 
Not quite so sweet, nor quite so fair 
As her kind smile and blossom face; 
She hived in some forgotten place 
Within herself and could not bear 
That any man should see her there. 

And though I'm older still I see 
In every face a mystery. 



71 



CROOKED-HEART 

I loosed an arrow from my bow 
Down into the world below; 
Thinking "This will surely dart, 
Guided by my guiding fate, 
Into the malignant heart 
Of the person whom I hate." 

So by hatred feathered well 

Swift the flashing arrow fell: 

And I watched it from above 

Disappear 

Cleaving sheer 

Through the only heart I love. 

Such the guard my angels keep! 
But my foe is guarded well: 
I have slain my love and weep 
Tears of blood, while he, asleep, 
Does not know an arrow fell ! 
76 



MAC DHOUL 

I saw them all, 

I could have laughed out loud 

To see them at their capers; 

That serious, solemn-footed, weighty crowd 

Of angels, or say resurrected drapers: 

Each with a thin flame swinging round his 

head, 
With lilting wings and eyes of holy dread, 
And curving ears strained for the great 

foot-fall, 
And not a thought of sin — . . . 
I don't know how I kept the laughter in. 

For I was there, 

Unknown, unguessed at, snug, 

In a rose tree's branchy spurt, 

With two weeks' whisker blackening lug 

to lug, 
With tattered breeks and only half a 

shirt. 

77 



78 THE HILL OF VISION 

Swollen fit to burst with laughter at the 

sight 
Of those dull angels drooping left and 

right 
Along the towering throne, each in a scare 
To hear His foot advance 
Huge from the cloud behind, all in a trance. 

And suddenly, 

As silent as a ghost, 

I jumped out from the bush, 

Went scooting through the glaring, nerve- 
less host 

All petrified, all gaping in a hush : 

Came to the throne and, nimble as a rat, 

Hopped up it, squatted close, and there I 
sat, 

Squirming with laughter till I had to cry, 

To see Him standing there 

Frozen with all His angels in a stare 1 
He raised His hand, 
His hand! 'twas like a sky! 
Gripped me in half a finger, 



MAC DHOUL 79 

Flipped me round and sent me spinning 

high 
Through the hot planets: faith, I didn't 

linger 
To scratch myself, and then adown I sped 
Scraping old moons and twisting heels and 

head 
A chuckle in the void till . . . here I 

stand 
As naked as a brick, 
I'll sing the Peeler and the Goat in half 

a tick. 



THE MERRY POLICEMAN 

I was appointed guardian by 
The Power that frowns along the sky, 
To watch the tree and see that none 
Plucked of the fruit that grew thereon. 

There was a robber in the tree, 
Who climbed as high as ever he 
Was able, at the top he knew 
The apple of all apples grew. 

The night was dark, the branch was thin, 
In every wind he heard the din 
Of angels calling — "Guardian, see 
That no one climbs upon the tree." 

And when he saw me standing there 
He shook with terror and despair, 
But I said to him — "Be at rest, 
The best to him who wants the best." 

So I was sacked, but I have got 
A job in hell to keep me hot. 
80 



TREASON 

He ran unto us in the little field, 

Out from the bordering trees sprang grim- 
acing: 

He swung his hand 

To the darkened land, 

And when he tried to speak to us he 
squealed; 

His voice curled from him like a fright- 
ened thing 

That had no sense, he fell down on the 
ground 

Laughing and weeping, then, uncouthly 
grim, 

He told a tale to us who stood around; 

And when his tale was told we fled from 
him. 

"O, we are lost," said he, "there is no hope, 
I say there is not any hope at all; 
We are betrayed, 

81 



82 THE HILL OF VISION 

The prayers we prayed, 

Our very tears, our love, our hands that 

grope 
Tremblingly skyward, and our knees that 

fall 
Down to adore them, all our hopes and 

fears, 
Our tremblings and our raptures are a joke, 
Poor follies for the laughter and the sneers 
Of those black demons and the shining folk. 

"I saw the radiant gods, a multitude 

Who flew down quickly to a place I know; 

A meadow fair, 

I will not tell you where: 

And from behind the moon a blacker brood 

Drove steeply down to where the gods 

below, 
(A white assembly; circling vast around,) 
Stood rank on rank in orderly array, 
And in the center on a higher ground 
Was one more beautiful than tongue can 

say. 



TREASON 83 

"I cried — alas, the good ones do not see 
These demons come to take them in a 

snare — 
My cudgel I 
Heaved shoulder-high 
And ran to aid them, ran so furiously 
My heart nigh broke, in running to get 

there, 
Nigh broke I say in pity as I ran: 
My heart ! ah, gods, what laughter ye had 

made 
Of this poor foolish loving-blinded man 
If he had died in running to your aid. 

"But I was late, ere I could reach the place 

The demons had descended to the ground : 

Each pointed wing 

A moment fluttering, 

And then the demons ran to an embrace 

With those white-shining ones, and made a 

sound 
Of joy and brotherhood, and gripped each 

hand, 
And laughed for merriment and danced for 

glee, 



84 THE HILL OF VISION 

And shouted salutation band to band, 
And held and kissed each other lovingly. 

"After a little time I stole away, 

I scarce could steal away for crazy pain: 

I heard them plan 

Of time and space and man, 

And what to do each in a different way 

And far apart, and when they'd meet 

again. 
Alas, we are betrayed ! the devils are 
Blood-brothers of the gods, where shall we 

see 
But in each other now a guiding star? 
Ah comrades, do ye also fly from me?" 



THE FAIRY BOY 

A little Fairy in a tree 

Wrinkled his wee face at me: 

And he sang a song of joy 

All about a little boy, 

Who upon a winter night, 

On a midnight long ago, 

Had been wrapt away from sight 

Of the world and all its woe: 

Wrapt away, 

Snapt away 

To a place where children play 

In the sunlight every day. 

Where the winter is forbidden, 
Where no child may older grow, 
Where a flower is never hidden 
Underneath a pall of snow; 
Dancing gaily 
Free from sorrow, 
Under dancing summer skies, 
85 



86 THE HILL OF VISION 

Where no grim mysterious morrow 
Ever comes to terrorize. 

This I told a priest and he 

Spoke a word of mystery, 

And with candle, book and bell, 

Tolling Latin like a knell, 

Ruthless he 

From the tree, 

Sprinkling holy water round, 

Drove the Fairy down to hell, 

There in torment to be bound. 

So the tree is withered and 
There is sorrow on the land: 
But the devils milder grow 
Dancing gay 
Every day 

In that kinder land below: 
There the devils dance for joy 
And love that little wrinkled boy. 



WHAT THE DEVIL SAID 

It was the night time, God the Father Good, 

Weary of praises, on a sudden stood 

Up from His throne and leaned upon the 

r, Sky ' 

For He had heard a sound, a little cry, 

Thin as a whisper climbing up the steep. 

And so he looked to where the Earth asleep 
Rocked with the moon, He saw the whirl- 
ing sea 
Swing round the world in surgent energy, 
Tangling the moonlight in its netted foam, 
And nearer saw the white and fretted dome 
Of the ice-capped pole spin back a larded 

ray 
To whistling stars, bright as a wizard's 
day. 

But these He passed with eyes intently 
wide, 

87 



88 THE HILL OF VISION 

Till closer still the mountains He espied 
Squatting tremendous on the broad-backed 

Earth ; 
Each nursing twenty rivers at a birth. 
And then minutely sought He for the cry 
Had climbed the slant of space so hugely 

high. 

He found it in a ditch outside a town, 

A tattered, hungry woman crouching down 

By a dead Babe — so there was nought to 

do, 
For what is done is done, and back He 

drew 
Sad to His Heaven of ivory and gold; 
And as He sat, all suddenly there rolled 
From where the woman wept upon the sod 
Satan's deep voice, "O, thou unhappy 

God!" 



TO THE TREE 

Ballad! I have a message you must bear 
Unto a certain tree : I may not tell 
Where she abides, only, she is more fair 
Than any tree that grows down in the dell, 
Or on the mountain top, or by the well, 
Or as a lovely sentinel beside 
The roaming stream. No words can speak 

her well, 
Nor lyric sing enough her arms so wide, 
Her grace, her peace, her innocence, her 

happy pride. 

Come quickly, Ballad, back to me again, 
After you have delivered to the tree 
My humble service, and if she will deign 
To trust you with a message back, then 

see 
Most strictly you forget no word that she 
Shall speak to you, no lightest yes or no: 
And what she looked like when she spoke 

of me, 

89 



90 THE HILL OF VISION 

And if she begged you stay or bade you go, 
Or hesitated ere she said — what you shall 
know. 

Say — I will come before the day is done, 
When the cool evening trembles to the dark 
And one ray only of the dying sun 
Rests on her topmost branches, when the 

lark 
Dips steeply to the grasses in the park 
And only now and then sends from below 
Her sleepy song: then, swift as to the mark 
An arrow flies, so swiftly I will go 
Nor stay until her branches wide I halt 

below. 

There is a crow, a fowl of evil fame, 
Whom one day by the grace of God I'll 

slay, 
Because he has adventured to my dame 
And in her bosom hides himself away: 
A wicked, curious crow, all hoary-gray; 
He listens to her heart that throbs so fleet 
Along the trunk and by the slender way 
Of her young veins whereat the branches 

meet: 



TO THE TREE 91 

A curious, bad, old, wicked crow and in- 
discreet. 

Most Beautiful! of every tree the queen! 
About her feet the grasses wave for glee, 
About her feet the forest folk are seen; 
The timid nymph bends down a ready 

knee, 
And mighty Pan himself, unwillingly, 
Yet all perforce, must stoop before her 

grace, 
And round about in a wild ecstasy 
The light- foot satyrs (stayed from an em- 
brace) 
Stare shamefully and dance and mince with 
antic pace. 

Fortress of melody! well hidden heart! 
Deep bosomed lady whom I love so well ! 
Dear solitude of singers without art! 
Sweet shadiness wherein I long to dwell, 
Enrapt and comforted from any spell 
Of thought or care or woefulness or sin; 
Or trouble which a man may not foretell; 



92 THE HILL OF VISION 

Or slothful ease which it is death to win; 
Or fear which cometh at the last and creep- 
eth in. 

If you among her little leaves will fly 
And what they whisper bring to me again, 
Dear Ballad, I will write your history 
Upon a sheepskin with a golden pen; 
It shall be read by women and by men: 
Each youth will sing it to his paramour 
As they go roving in the evening when 
All joy is innocence and love is lore, 
And you and youth and love will live for 
evermore. 

Rapture and joy and ecstasy and pain! 
The windy trumpets of the void shall soar 
Over the sky. The Morning Stars again 
Will sing together joyous as of yore: 
The sea shall tramp with banners on the 

shore : 
The little hills skip merrily along 

The forest leave its field and with a roar 



TO THE TREE 93 

Stride down the pathway shouting out a 

song, 
And everything be happy as the day is 

long. 

Envoi 

Ballad, farewell! go tell her how I burn, 
Say I am dead until her face I see: 
And I will wait and sigh till you return, 
And plague the god of love and life to 
favour me. 



ORA PRO NOBIS 

A bird is singing now; 

Merrily 

Sings he 

Of his mate on the bough, 

And her eggs in the tree; 

But yonder a hawk 

Swoops down from the blue 

And the bird's song is finished 

— Is this story true? 

God now have mercy on me and on you. 



94 



AFTERWARDS 

Maidenhood, maidenhood, whither art 
thou gone away from mef Never again 
will I come to thee, never again. — Sappho. 

Am I a bride? 

I scarce can think it, I 

Who yesterday was quick to blush and hide 

Behind my mother's skirts, and often 

cried — 
(Foolish to be so shy) 
When strangers came and mother was not 

nigh. 

Strange, I am wed! 

Wife to be held and kissed 1 

And no one chides his head beside my head, 

Nor cries, "Thou bad thing, fie!" but all 

instead 
Smile blessingly. I wist 
It is a wonder tale . . . yet something 

dear is missed. 

95 



96 THE HILL OF VISION 

No longer free. 

Love's captive I am ta'en. 

Now whither art thou gone away 

from me 
Dear maidenhood? "O, I am so far from 

thee. 
And howso thou complain, 
I never more may come to thee again." 



THE END OF THE ROAD 

To JE 

This is a thing is true, 
Everything comes to an end: 
The loving of me and you, 
The walking of friend and friend. 

Shall I weep the beauty I knew, 
Or the greatness gathered away 
Or the truth that is only true, 
As the things that a man will say? 

The child and the mother will die, 
The wife and the husband sever, 
The sun will go out of the sky, 
And the rain will be falling for ever. 

For ever until the waves rear 
To the skies with a terrible tune, 
And cover the earth and air, 
And climb up the beach of the moon. 
7 97 



98 THE HILL OF VISION 

Then go, for all things must end, 
And this is true as I say — 
A friend will be leaving a friend, 
And a man will be going away. 



WIND AND TREE 

To jE 

"A woman is a branchy tree 
And man a singing wind, 
And from her branches carelessly 
He takes what he can find: 
Then man and wind go far away 
While winter comes with loneliness, 
With cold and rain and slow decay 
On woman and on tree till they 
Droop down unto the ground and be 
A withered woman, a withered tree; 
While wind and man woo undismayed 
Another tree, another maid." 



99 



EVE 

Long ago in ages gray, 

I was fashioned out of clay: 

Builded with the sun and moon, 

Kneaded to a holy tune; 

And there came to me a breath 

From the House of Life and Death. 

Then the sun roared into fire, 
And the moon with swift desire 
Leaped among the starry throng 
Singing on her journey long; 
And I climbed up from the sod, 
Holding to the hand of God. 

In a garden fair and wide 
Looking down a mountain side, 
Prone I lay and felt the press 
Of Immensity's caress, 
There a space I lived and knew 
What the Power meant to do. 

100 



EVE 101 

Till upon a day there came 
Down to me a voice of flame, 
"Thou the corner-stone of man, 
Rise and set about my plan, 
Nothing doubting, for a guide 
I have quickened in thy side." 

From the garden wide and fair, 
From the pure and holy air, 
Down the mountain side I crept 
Stumbling often, ill-adept; 
Feeling pangs of woeful bliss 
Rounding from the primal kiss. 

Then from out my straining side 
Came the son who is my guide : 
Him I nursed through faithful days 
Till I faltered at his gaze, 
Staring boldly when he saw 
I was woman, life, and law. 

Life and law and dear delight: 
I the moon upon the night 
All alluring: I the tree 



102 THE HILL OF VISION 

Growing nuts of mystery: 
I the tincture and the dew 
That the apple reddens through. 

I desirable and sweet: 
I of fruitfulness complete: 
I the promise and the threat 
Which the gods may not forget : 
I the Weaver spinning blind 
Destinies for humankind. 

Lifting, lifting ever up 
Till I reach the golden cup: 
Groping down and ever down 
Till I find the buried crown: 
I the Searcher sent to bring 
Plumes for the Almighty's Wing. 

Weaving Life and Death I go: 
Building what I do not know: 
Planting tho' in sore distress, 
Gardens in the wilderness: 
Palaces too big to scan 
By the little eye of man. 



EVE 103 

Knowing surely this is true, 
That the thing I have to do, 
Has been ordered by the breath 
From the House of Life and Death: 
It no wind of chance or wide 
Cloud of doubt may set aside. 

Still the sun roars out in fire, 
And the moon with pale desire 
Keeps the path appointed her 
In the starry theatre: 
Sun and moon and I are true, 
To the work we have to do. 



THE BREATH OF LIFE 

(To Elizabeth Bloxham) 

And while they talked and talked, and 

while they sat 
Changing their base minds into baser coin; 
And telling — they! how truth and beauty 

join, 
And how a certain this was good, but that 
Was baser than the viper or the toad, 
Or the blind beggar glaring down the road. 

I turned from them in fury, and I ran 
To where the moon shone out upon the 

height, 
Down the long reaches of a summer night, 
Stretching slim fingers, and the starry clan 
Grew thicker than the flowers that we see 
Clustered in quiet fields of greenery. 

Around me was the night-time sane and 
cold, 

104 



THE BREATH OF LIFE 105 

The clouds that knew no care and no re- 
straint 
Swung through the silences, or drifted faint 
To pale horizons, wreathing fold on fold, 
The moon's sharp edge, each rolling cloud 

a sea, 
A foam of silver shining gloriously. 

The quietudes that sunder star from star, 
The hazy distances of loneliness, 
Where never eagle's wing or timid press 
Of lark or wren could venture, and the far 
Profundities untravelled and unstirred 
By any act of man or thought or word. 

These held me with amazement and de- 
light: 

I yearned up through the spaces of the 
sky, 

Beyond the rolling clouds, beyond the high 

And delicate white moon, and up the 
height, 

And past the rocking stars, and out to 
where 

The ether failed in spaces sharp and bare. 



106 THE HILL OF VISION 

The breath that is the very breath of life 
Throbbed close to me: I heard the pulses 

beat, 
That lift the universes into heat: 
The slow withdrawal, and the deeper strife 
Of His wide respiration, like a sea 
It ebbed and flooded through immensity. 

His breath alone in wave on mighty wave ! 
O moon and stars swell to a raptured song ! 
Ye mountains toss the harmony along ! 
O little men with little souls to save 
Swing up glad chantings, ring the skies 

above, 
With boundless gratitude for boundless 

love! 

Probing the ocean to its steepest drop; 

Rejoicing in the viper and the toad, 

And the blind beggar glaring down the 

road; 
And they who talk and talk and never stop 
Equally quickening; with a care to bend 
The gnat's slant wing into a swifter end. 



THE BREATH OF LIFE 107 

Searching the quarries of all life, the deep 
Low crannies and shy places of the world, 
To warm the smallest insect that is curled 
In a deep root, or on the sun to heap 
Fiercer combustion, spending love on all 
In equal share, the mighty and the small. 



The silence clung about me like a gift, 
The tender night-time folded me around 
Protectingly, and in a peace profound 
The clouds drooped slowly backward drift 

on drift 
Into the darkness, and the moon was gone, 
And soon the stars had vanished every one. 

But on the sky, a handsbreadth in the west, 
A faint cold brightness crept and soared 

and spread, 
Until the rustling heavens overhead, 
And the gray trees and grass were manifest: 
Then through the chill a golden spear was 

hurled, 
And the big sun tossed laughter on the 

world. 



IN THE COOL OF THE 

EVENING 

I thought I heard Him calling. Did you 

hear 
A sound, a little sound? My curious ear 
Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree 
Goes — whisper, whisper, whisper silently 
Till all its whispers spread into the sound 
Of a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground, 
The shade is deep and He may pass us by, 
We are so very small, and His great eye, 
Customed to starry majesties, may gaze 
Too wide to spy us hiding in the maze: 
Ah, misery ! the sun has not yet gone 
And we are naked: He will look upon 
Our crouching shame, may make us stand 

upright 
Burning in terror — O, that it were night! 
He may not come . . . what? listen, 

listen, now — 
He is here! lie closer . . . Adam, 

where art thou? 

1 08 



NEW PINIONS 

I tore the shackles from my feet, 
The bandage from my straining eye, 
I spread my wings above the street 
And soared upon the sky. 
I knew the stars for friends, and knew 
The sun and moon more happy grew 
To see me flying by. 

And they, far down below, who moved 

With hobbled ankles, groping mad 

Among the gutters disapproved 

And said that it was sad 

A man should want to leave the sty, 

To spread his wings abroad and fly 

When garbage might be had. 

But I in converse with the sun, 
Or visiting the moon on high, 
Or joining with a star to run 
Mad races on the sky, 
109 



no THE HILL OF VISION 

Can hardly find the time to spare 
A thought for the dull gropers there 
Who never lift an eye. 



PSYCHOMETRIST 

I listened to a man and he 
Had no word to say to me : 
Then unto a stone I bowed, 
And it spoke to me aloud. 

"The Force that bindeth me so long, 
Once moved in the linnet's song, 
Now upon the ground I lie, 
While the centuries go by. 

"Linnets must for joy atone 
And he fastened into stone, 
While upon the waving tree 
Stones shall sing in Energy." 



in 



THE WINGED TRAMP 

I saw a poor man walking slow, 
Scarcely knowing where to go; 
And from door to door he said, 
Unto those who stood within, 
— "Give me, with a little bread, 
Absolution for my sin." 

And the people always said, 

— "Friend, come in and eat our bread; 

Lay you down and rest a while, 

Sleep a little time and pray 

Unto God and He will smile 

All your weighty sin away." 

Then the poor man rose and flew 
Up to God and no one knew 
He was God's beloved Son: 
And He told His Father plain 
What the folk had said and done: 
— So God spared the world again. 

8 112 



POLES 

Cleric and Convict are moulded on, 
The same old grinning skeleton, 
And a saint might think if he looked within 
That the Devil had gotten beneath his 
skin. 



"3 



CHOPIN'S FUNERAL 
MARCH 

Yea, ye shall rest, O be sure that your sleep 

will endure: 
Through the daylight, the dusk, and the 

dark, while the moon and the sun 
Rise successive and fail and die down when 

the journey is done : 
Ye shall rest, taking heed of no thing that 

shall come or shall go: 
Ye shall sleep through the thunder nor 

heed when the hurricanes blow: 
When the strong trees are felled and the 

rocks topple down from the height: 
While the mountains dissolve into sand and 

the valleys upright 
Climb stark into mountains again, ye shall 

hear not a sound, 
Secure in the sleep that I give in the heart 

of the ground : 

114 



CHOPIN'S FUNERAL MARCH 115 

Till the earth like a mote through the 

spaces falls into the sun, 
And the work of all things that have been 

is a work that is done. 



THE MONKEY'S 

COUSIN 

I shall reach up, I shall grow 
Till the high gods say — "Hello, 
Little brother, you must stop 
Ere our shoulders you o'ertop." 

I shall grow up, I shall reach 
Till the little gods beseech 
— "Master, wait a little, do, 
We are running after you I" 

I shall bulk and swell and scale 
Till the little gods shall quail, 
Running here and there to hide 
From the terror of my stride. 



116 



THE LONELY GOD 

{To Stephen MacKenna) 

So Eden was deserted, and at Eve 
Into the quiet place God came to grieve. 
His face was sad, His hands hung slackly 

down 
Along His robe, too sorrowful to frown 
He paced along the grassy paths and 

through 
The silent trees, and where the flowers 

grew 
Tended by Adam. All the birds had gone 
Out to the world, and singing was not one 
To cheer the lonely God out of His grief — 
The silence broken only when a leaf 
Tap't lightly on a leaf, or when the wind, 
Slow-handed, swayed the bushes to its mind. 

And so along the base of a round hill, 
Rolling in fern, He bent His way until 
117 



n8 THE HILL OF VISION 

He neared the little hut which Adam made, 
And saw its dusky rooftree overlaid 
With greenest leaves. Here Adam and his 

spouse 
Were wont to nestle in their little house 
Snug at the dew-time: here He, standing 

sad, 
Sighed with the wind, nor any pleasure had 
In heavenly knowledge, for His darlings 

twain, 
Had gone from Him to learn the feel of 

pain, 
And what was meant by sorrow and de- 
spair, 
— Drear knowledge for a Father to pre- 
pare. 

There He looked sadly on the little place, 
A beehive round it was, without a trace 
Of occupant or owner: standing dim 
Among the gloomy trees it seemed to Him 
A final desolation, the last word 
Wherewith the lips of silence had been 
stirred. 



THE LONELY GOD 119 

Chaste and remote, so tiny and so shy, 

So new withal, so lost to any eye, 

So pac't of memories all innocent 

Of days and nights that in it had been 

spent 
In blithe communion, Adam, Eve, and He, 
Afar from Heaven and its gaudery 
And now no more! He still must be the 

God 
But not the friend; a Father with a rod 
Whose voice was fear, whose countenance 

a threat, 
Whose coming terror, and whose going wet 
With penitential tears; not evermore 
Would they run forth to meet Him as 

before 
With careless laughter, striving each to be 
First to His hand and dancing in their 

glee 
To see Him coming — they would hide in- 
stead 
At His approach, or stand and hang the 

head, 



120 THE HILL OF VISION 

Speaking in whispers, and would learn to 

pray 
Instead of asking, "Father, if we may." 

Never again to Eden would He haste 
At cool of evening, when the sun had paced 
Back from the tree-tops, slanting from the 

rim 
Of a low cloud, what time the twilight dim, 
Knit tree to tree in shadow, gathering slow 
Till all had met and vanished in the flow 
Of dusky silence, and a brooding star 
Stared at the growing darkness from afar, 
While haply now and then some nested bird 
Would lift upon the air a sleepy word 
Most musical, or swing its airy bed 
To the high moon that drifted overhead. 

'Twas good to quit at evening His great 

throne, 
To lay His crown aside, and all alone 
Down through the quiet air to stoop and 

glide 
Unkenned by angels : silently to hide 



THE LONELY GOD 121 

In the green fields, by dappled shades, 

where brooks, 
Through leafy solitudes and quiet nooks 
Flowed far from heavenly majesty and 

pride, 
From light astounding and the wheeling 

tide 
Of roaring stars. Thus does it ever seem 
Good to the best to stay aside and dream 
In narrow places, where the hand can feel 
Something beside, and know that it is real. 

His angels ! silly creatures who could sing 
And sing again, and delicately fling 
The smoky censer, bow and stand aside 
All mute in adoration : thronging wide, 
Till nowhere could He look but soon He 

saw 
An angel bending humbly to the law 
Mechanic; knowing nothing more of pain, 
Than when they were forbid to sing again, 
Or swing anew the censer, or bow down, 
In humble adoration of His frown. 
This was the thought in Eden as He trod 
. . . It is a lonely thing to be a God. 



122 THE HILL OF VISION 

So long ! afar through Time He bent His 

mind, 
For the beginning, which He could not 

find, 
Through endless centuries and backwards 

still 
Endless for ever, till His 'stonied will 
Halted in circles, dizzied in the swing 
Of mazy nothingness — His mind could 

bring 
Not to subjection, grip or hold the theme 
Whose wide horizon melted like a dream 
To thinnest edges. Infinite behind 
The piling centuries wire trodden blind 
In gulfs chaotic — so He could not see 
When He was not who always had To Be. 

Not even godly fortitude can stare 

Into Eternity, nor easy bear 

The insolent vacuity of Time: 

It is too much, the mind can never climb 

Up to its meaning, for, without an end, 

Without beginning, plan, or scope, or trend 

To point a path, there nothing is to hold 



THE LONELY GOD 123 

And steady surmise: so the mind is rolled 
And swayed and drowned in dull Immen- 
sity. 
Eternity outfaces even Me 
With its indifference, and the fruitless year, 
Would swing as fruitless were I never here. 

And so for ever, day and night the same, 
Years flying swiftly nowhere, like a game 
Played random by a madman, without end 
Or any reasoned object but to spend 
What is unspendable — Eternal Woe! 
O Weariness of Time that fast or slow 
Goes never further, never has in view 
An ending to the thing it seeks to do, 
And so does nothing: merely ebb and flow, 
From nowhere into nowhere, touching so 
The shores of many stars and passing on, 
Careless of what may come or what has 
gone. 

O solitude unspeakable! to be 
For ever with oneself! never to see 
An equal face, or feel an equal hand, 



124 THE HILL OF VISION 

To sit in state and issue reprimand, 
Admonishment or glory, and to smile 
Disdaining what has happened the while! 
O to be breast to breast against a foel 
Against a friend ! to strive and not to know 
The laboured outcome : Love nor be aware 
How much the other loved, and greatly 

care 
With passion for that happy love or hate, 
Nor know what joy or dole was hid in fate. 

For I have ranged the spacy width and gone 
Swift north and south, striving to look 

upon 
An ending somewhere. Many days I sped 
Hard to the west, a thousand years I fled 
Eastwards in fury, but I could not find 
The fringes of the Infinite. Behind 
And yet behind, and ever at the end 
Came new beginnings, paths that did not 

wend 
To anywhere were there : and ever vast 
And vaster spaces opened — till at last 
Dizzied with distance, thrilling to a pain 
Unnameable, I turned to Heaven again. 



THE LONELY GOD 125 

And there My angels were prepared to fling 
The cloudy incense, there prepared to sing 
My praise and glory — O, in fury I 
Then roared them senseless, then threw 

down the sky 
And stamped upon it, buffeted a star 
With My great fist, and flung the sun afar: 
Shouted My anger till the mighty sound 
Rung to the width, frighting the furthest 

bound 
And scope of hearing: tumult vaster still, 
Thronging the echo, dinned my ears, until 
I fled in silence, seeking out a place 
To hide Me from the very thought of 

Space. 

And so, He thought, in Mine own Image I 
Have made a man, remote from Heaven 

high 
And all its humble angels: I have poured 
My essence in his nostrils: I have cored 
His heart with My own spirit; part of Me 
His mind with laboured growth unceasingly 
Must strive to equal Mine ; must ever grow 



126 THE HILL OF VISION 

By virtue of My essence till he know 
Both good and evil through the solemn test 
Of sin and retribution, till, with zest, 
He feels his godhead, soars to challenge 

Me 
In Mine own Heaven for supremacy. 

Through savage beasts and still more sav- 
age clay 
Invincible, I bid him fight a way 
To greater battles, crawling through defeat 
Into defeat again : ordained to meet 
Disaster in disaster: prone to fall 
I prick him with My memory to call 
Defiance at his victor and arise 
With anguished fury to his greater size 
Through tribulation, terror and despair 
Astounded, he must fight to higher air, 
Climb battle into battle till he be 
Confronted with a flaming sword and Me. 

So growing age by age to greater strength, 
To greater beauty, skill and deep intent: 
With wisdom wrung from pain, with en- 
ergy 



THE LONELY GOD 127 

Nourished in sin and sorrow he will be 
Strong, pure and proud an enemy to meet, 
Tremendous on a battle-field, or sweet 
To walk by as a friend with candid mind. 
— Dear enemy or friend so hard to find, 
I yet shall find you, yet shall put My breast 
In enmity or love against your breast 
Shall smite or clasp with equal ecstasy 
The enemy or friend who grows to Me. 

The topmost blossom of his growing I 
Shall take unto Me, cherish and lift high 
Beside Myself upon My holy throne : 
— It is not good for God to be alone. 
The perfect woman of his perfect race 
Shall sit beside Me in the highest place 
And be My Goddess, Queen, Companion, 

Wife, 
The rounder of My majesty, the life, 
Of My ambition. She will smile to see 
Me bending down to worship at her knee 
Who never bent before, and she will say, 
— "Dear God, who was it taught Thee how 

to pray?" 



128 THE HILL OF VISION 

And through eternity, adown the slope 
Of never-ending time, compact of hope, 
Of zest and young enjoyment, I and She 
Will walk together, sowing jollity 
Among the raving stars, and laughter 

through 
The vacancies of Heaven, till the blue 
Vast amplitudes of space lift up a song, 
The echo of our presence, rolled along 
And ever rolling where the planets sing 
The majesty and glory of the King. 
Then conquered, thou, eternity, shall lie 
Under my hand as little as a fly. 

I am the Master: I the mighty God 
And you My workshop. Your pavilions 

trod 
By Me and Mine shall never cease to be, 
For you are but the magnitude of Me, 
The width of My extension, the surround 
Of My dense splendor. Rolling, rolling 

round, 
To steeped infinity and out beyond 
My own strong comprehension you are 

bond 



THE LONELY GOD 129 

And servile to My doings. Let you swing 
More wide and ever wide you do but fling 
Around this instant Me, and measure still 
The breadth and the proportion of My 
Will. 

Then stooping to the hut — a beehive 

round — 
God entered in and saw upon the ground 
The dusty garland, Adam, (learned to 

weave) 
Had loving placed upon the head of Eve 
Before the terror came, when joyous they 
Could look for God at closing of the day 
Profound and happy. So the Mighty 

Guest 
Bent, took, and placed the blossoms in His 

breast. 
"This," said He gently, "I shall show My 

queen 
When she hath grown to Me in space 

serene, 
And say " 'twas worn by Eve." So, smil- 
ing fair, 
He spread abroad His wings upon the air. 
9 



HAIL AND FAREWELL 

The poem is sung. 

The picture quite 

Finished and hung 

In the candid light; 

But poet and painter must go away 

Ere they hear what the critical people say. 

Age after age, 

Without a break, 

A prophet shall rage 

By a lonely lake: 

And know not ere he has gone away 

Who is to listen to what he'll say. 

But the poet shall hear, 
The painter see 
The praises dear 
Of their mystery: 

And poet and painter and prophet find 
The glory they thought they had left be- 
hind. 

130 



HAIL AND FAREWELL 131 

There is an ear 

To hear the song, 

An eye to peer 

At the picture long: 

A brain to gather the tale and bless 

The prophet who spoke to the wilderness. 



T 



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